A cool breeze rushed through the clump of deciduous trees he was resting beneath. Their leaves had begun to become brushed with vibrancy; where Tallsun had dried many of them, Orangemoon turned them to a painter’s warm palette. A black-rimmed ear tilted upwards, listening to the gentle rustle of dying leaves, while the other remained splayed and relaxed. His thick, black lips drooped, parted in relaxation, just as his eyelids slipped half-past his glazed navy gaze.

There was something calming about this day. It heralded all the promises of the season’s change and promise of Orangemoon’s storms. But, for some reason, in this cove of deciduous trees that had not yet slipped out of their green robes, there was a aura of peace. And that is why the Elephant had stalled here; even his cantankerous elephant companion had folded into a small, wrinkled grey ball at his ivory fore-hooves. Her rounded sides moved rhythmically, tail and trunk occasionally twitching with her dreams.

But the peace is shattered as a scream rattles through the spread, branching limbs above him. Both ears snap forward, eyes widening and sharpening; gone was the blissful respite of relaxation. Mbwene, equal parts shocked and angry, shot to her rounded feet with an in indignant trumpet from her raised trunk and brandished tusks.

The King’s head had rose to its great height, no longer hanging relaxed from his withers, and his body had leapt to tense attention within a breath; the thick buckskin hide stretched taunt over his time-hardened sinew. He started as a small, furred body streaked past him— a small Lantern Fox had also shared his and Mbwene’s afternoon resting place. But the secretive creature had been startled by the Barn Owl’s screech, and disappeared into the forest.

His sharp gaze caught a flash of murky light through the heavily misted day. “Hello?” His deep rumble is equal parts question and command. However, his eyes slowly adjusted, realizing that they were, in fact, seeing an equid form. It was just clear, and unlike anything he had seen before. Surprise stole his deep voice from for a few moments as he watched her for a few, long moments; eyes naturally drawn to the thrumming, visible beat of her heart.

But, with a slight shake of his massive horn and masked face, he retrained his navy gaze on her pale lavender eyes, “Who are you? I am Tembovu, King here, and I have not seen you in the Edge before.” His skull cocked slightly, navy gaze studying the crystalline, delicate sweeps of her face as he waited and answer. Mbwene slowly edged forward, ire fading in the face of such a unique mare, trunk curiously outstretched towards the crack that stretched between her legs and down her barrel.